"NoHo" news and stories

This past Monday was the beginning of autumn, which in years past been somewhat of a sad time for my meat and fire loving alter ego, Joey Deckle, because it marks the end of the competitive barbecuing season. But not this time around. For in addition to being the start of fall and the autumnal equinox, Monday was also Il Buco's fifth annual Sagra del Maiale, or pig festival. There's nothing quite like an afternoon spent on a downtown Manhattan street eating roast pork with a bunch of like-minded carnivores to cure the end-of-summer blues.

This wasn't just any old roast pig though, it was a heritage breed called a Farmer's Cross, or Crossabaw. For those of you not up on heritage hogs, a Crossabaw is breed based on the Ossabaw blood line, the very pig Peter Kaminsky praised in his book Pig Perfect. It yields exceptionally rich moist meat and luscious fat. Lest I forget, it wasn't exactly a tiny pig either, it weighed in at 200 pounds. Such a beast would take a good 24 hours if it were to be cooked over smoke. When I asked Chef Ignacio Mattos how long it would take, he responded, "That's a good question. Hopefully about six-and-a-half hours. It's going on at 6 a.m."

The reason behind such a relatively short cooking time for such a large hog? A cooking method known as infernillo, literally little hell. When Chef Mattos told me that it took some 400 pounds of fuel, including lump charcoal and oak and cherry wood to cook the beast, I thought it sounded more like a big hell. Infernillo, is an Incan method of cooking that Chef Mattos learned from his mentor, the Uruguayan chef, Frances Mallmann. Essentially it involves roasting the pig on a shelf with an intense wood fire above and another below. Chef Mattos butterflied his Crossabaw and then seasoned it with rosemary, fennel pollen, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper. The intense heat yielded some incredibly crunchy skin.

If you're a bargoer, you know the feeling. At 1:30 every morning, the bartender bellows, "LAST CALL!" and a collective groan erupts from the hangers-on, as they order their last round. The lights go up, and everyone stumbles out.

In New York, it's different. Most bars don't close until 4 a.m., dragging the ruckus and partying late into the night. Turns out, not everyone is a fan of the late-night revelry.

Brad Linder, journalist and writer for sister site Green Daily, recently reported on this issue for NPR. He spoke to one woman who lives in the NOHO district and is a member of a community board that's trying to get liquor-licensed establishments to close at 2 instead of 4.

Community boards like hers now have so much pull that many bars and restaurants must ask permission before staying open 'til 4, like teenagers asking to extend their curfew.

I'm sure we'd all rather not experience loud arguments and car alarms at 4 a.m. But at some point, isn't the noise and general hubbub part and parcel of living in a trendy NYC neighborhood? If you don't like the scene, shouldn't you just...move somewhere else?

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